


The Wind and the Sea

by lovi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Facing Fears, Family, Family Issues, Fear, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Ocean, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, Trauma, but it's a combo, can get a lil angsty sometimes, city, fear is a very important thing in this, okay maybe I'll add more tags later but that's the gist of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovi/pseuds/lovi
Summary: Azumane Asahi has felt a strange combination of disgust and fear towards the ocean ever since he was a child. This is all subject to change, however, when he meets Nishinoya Yuu, a man more powerful and fearless than the ocean itself, and slowly begins to learn that maybe even he himself holds that strength within.---Also known as a love story about two people drawn to the ocean, knowingly or not, for different reasons. How these people and those they care about navigate their place in the world.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, ummmm some others but very minor like
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. The Setting Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! OKay so I KNOW I already started a longer kghn fic but that's on the backburner rn because I went insane and already plotted this whole story out..... I'm beyond excited to work on this and share it with you guys because this story is really important to me. I hope y'all enjoy and stick it out with me because I am disorganized and constantly forget to update!! Sorry for that, I'm workin on it. See you guys on the other side

_I’m standing on a precipice. I’m balancing on the border of land and sea. My eyes are closed but I don’t need to open them to know what stands in front of me: the ocean._

_Its warmth, its relentless slow crawl towards the shore and back again. Clouded with weeds, tepid pools brought to a standstill and infested with flies. The strong scent of fish hangs above the suffocating humidity and seeps down into it, filling my lungs with the stench of death._

_But I feel a rumble. It begins light beneath my toes and creeps up into my legs, shaking my bones and the warm water and sand pooled around my ankles. The tremors grow in magnitude, and I can feel the body of water in front of me morphing, evolving, growing wild like soda shaken in the can, ready to burst. The ground beneath my feet is now hard, cold rock, and I can feel the mist settle on my skin with each thundering crash of seawater. I clench my fists, take a deep breath, and open my eyes—_

“Asahi!”

Asahi flinched, being dragged back into reality like a thin thread pulled from a stitch. He could suddenly hear the sounds of the city, the wild hum of the cicadas and locusts jumbled up with the distant whirr of a motorcycle, the sound of children playing in the nearby park, the rhythmic thud of the bass from a car playing music while driving by. _Is he home already?_ His pencil sat woven between loose fingers; his journal sat on his folded knee, heavier than before. Asahi allowed the weight of his body to pull him back down into relaxation, skating his fingertips over the gravely tiles beneath him, knocking small bits of sediment loose.

_I’m standing on a precipice. I’m balancing on the border of land and sea. My eyes are—_

“Asahi! Asahiiii!! Down here!” Asahi grumbled and flicked his eyes up, flipping reality on like a switch: the deep golden hue of near-evening hung over the city like a veil, cloaking it in warmth. He sat up and leaned over the eave to see his friend, his near brother, Sugawara, standing on the sidewalk in front of their house, dressed in his business attire from work, hand shading his eyes as he waved up in greeting. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I just got home and I’m locked out.” Asahi smiled lightly at the sight of him, feeling somewhat like a kid watching their friend play dress up in adult clothing, and slowly slinked down the roof, dangling from the eave by his fingers until he was low enough to drop onto their stoop below. He lightly tossed his keys to Sugawara, who caught them with both hands and smiled as he unlocked the door, swinging open the torn screen door before pushing at their main door until it budged and let them into the house, Sugawara kicking his shoes off by the door.

“Hey, sorry about that. How was work today? Going in on a Sunday seems a little unfair huh?” Asahi closed the screen door behind him but left the other open, the summer air and ambience wafting in through the hallway and into their small common area. Sugawara nodded and walked over to their lamp, turning the knob until a warm light pervaded the room and adjusting it to a slightly dimmer tone.

“Yeah, a little bit. It was just a one-time thing though.” Asahi hummed in confirmation and walked over to the freezer, rummaging through it. Sugawara had wandered over towards the bathroom, flicking the lights on and adjusting himself in the mirror, splashing some cold water into his face.

“Suga, do you want pasta? We have frozen tortellini!” Asahi shouted down the hall, hanging by the handles of the fridge as the door swung open, swaying his tall frame with it.

“Yeah sure! Could you heat up some sauce? I’ll defrost the pasta.”

“Yeah.” Asahi left the bag of tortellini on the counter and turned to open their cabinet, rummaging through their assortment of cans, searching for that one jar that always stood taller than the rest…

… nothing. No sauce.

“Uhhh Suga, we’re all out, should I run out and grab some?” PLEASE god say no, Asahi thought, gripping the edge of the counter. He was frankly very tired but was too polite to ask Sugawara to do anything, especially after an unexpected work day. There was a second of a pause, and then Sugawara poked his little head out from around the bathroom door, grinning awkwardly.

“Couldja? I’m sorry, I’m just really tired today. I need to rest for a bit.” He flicked off the light and emerged from the bathroom, running a hand through his light hair, partially bleached from the summer sun. His eyes were adorned by two lovely dark circles, standing out against the pale of his skin. Asahi was doing the right thing.

“Yeah, of course! Don’t even worry about it.” Asahi tousled his hair, smiling as he turned around and slipped his casual shoes on. “I’ll only be a second anyways, it’s not like I’ll be going far; just relax and watch tv or something.” And relax Sugawara did, plopping into their reclining armchair and leaning all the way back, flipping on the television.

“Thanks Asahi.” Asahi nodded and was about to walk out the door when Sugawara piped up once more.

“Oh, by the way, do you mind if Daichi comes over for dinner?” Sugawara said with a hint of excitement sparking off his tongue. Asahi turned back and smiled.

“Of course not, Suga: I’ll never mind. Daichi’s great, invite him over as often as you’d like.” Sugawara could feel his face heat up as that energy travelled into his cheeks and lifted his lips into a giddy grin.

“Thanks, Asahi: really.” Asahi smiled and waved, stepping outside and closing the door behind him, beginning to walk down their skinny street.

Asahi Azumane lived in the southwest of the city in a small apartment near a busy diagonal street. Every night he would exit the train and descend from the platform into a valley of sound and summer heat, life and light; with all the life and light drained out of him. He walked down the block as his old neighbor smiled and waved, and the drunk man made a pass at him, and the kids from the next street over ran by, kicking a soccer ball.

As he reached the intersection of the busy diagonal road, he was meant to turn left. He was certainly meant to turn left and go to the bodega right around the corner but something compelled him to turn right and follow the setting sun as it descended onto the horizon below, whose afternoon sizzle had settled into a soft evening hum. Everything was basked in a gold-orange glow that left Asahi breathless but satisfied. He kept walking, feeling the warmth of the city on his skin. Everyone was saying hello to him because everyone knew him: it’s hard not to know the mailman that delivers to his entire neighborhood. Asahi was basking in these warm smiles and fiery tones streaked across the building fronts and had long since forgotten about why he left—

Oh, shit. The pasta sauce. Asahi’s palms started to sweat as he turned around in search of a street sign, feeling his heartbeat quicken just a tad. Was Sugawara okay? Just how long had Asahi been gone? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking for texts: no notifications. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Asahi let himself collect his thoughts and return back to earth, looking at his surroundings. Oh. He was just in the northwest corner of the neighborhood; still familiar territory, just a little less so since it was so close to the edge. _In fact, he should be around here somewhere…_ Asahi perked up as he rounded the corner and saw the yellow and red neon sign glowing just outside the building. Perfect.

Asahi strode up to the shop, peering out over the athletic field directly across from it. The sky was tinged with blues and purples and Asahi wondered where the sun had gone, as it was no longer in the sky, its red ball of flame no longer hanging delicately above the horizon, threatening to fall. The door jingled as Asahi walked into the shop, quickly scanning the shelves over before turning to face the front counter.

“Hey Yaku, long time no s—” His gaze met the gaze of a man he had never met before: brown eyes sitting sharp, awake like embers in his skull, his stare singeing his skin like wildfire. Black hair blown back like the wind of a storm, a small bolt of lightning shooting out from his roots and scattering itself in all directions. The man opened his mouth to speak and there must’ve been fire on his tongue because it was dancing awfully quick around his mouth as he spoke.

“Yaku’s in the back.” A soft voice peppered with consonants, sharp like a firecracker against the concrete, feeding into the flame.

Asahi had found the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this introduction was short but it's fine, I'll make it up to y'all I promise.


	2. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi thought maybe he could exist this way, letting the warm rays of his own light seep through his pores and run down his fingers as liquid gold, as honey illuminated by the orange glow of evening sunlight.

Heat bled into Asahi’s cheeks as he stood there, struggling to form a proper sentence. The man at the counter shifted, his gaze darting around the room as he adjusted in his seat, his oversized red t-shirt favoring one shoulder more than the other. Asahi’s palms grew sweaty again as he turned around in place, pretending to browse the shelf behind him.

Why was this guy making him feel this way? It felt like nerves but magnified and hyper-present. Whatever it was, Asahi could not stop thinking about it, his mind was racing a mile a minute while his eyes stayed glued on the same box of cough drops on the shelf. How long had Asahi been standing absentmindedly in place like this? Did the cashier notice? What if he thought he was shoplifting? Did this guy look like the type to call the cops? _Nah, probably not._ What if he pulled him out back and tried to fight? Could Asahi take him in a fight? He’d probably get the shit beaten out of him.

“Hey, dude, hello??” Asahi snapped back to reality and pivoted his head to look at the cashier, who was half-standing as if he were about to get up and go somewhere. “Do you want me to go grab Yaku?” Asahi swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered his wits, just hoping to god his hands would stop shaking before he had to hand them his cash.

“N-no, it’s okay, I just came here to grab something. Haven’t seen Yaku in a while, that’s all.” The cashier paused and sat back down, picking up a pencil and chewing on it while his eyes glazed over Asahi’s face.

“Well you’re not missing much…” A small laugh escaped through the man’s nose and Asahi oddly felt like he could melt. In fact, he kind of was melting—through his pores, down his back and over his forehead. Was it just the heat or was he really this nervous? Asahi chose to ignore these thoughts and tried focusing on his surroundings again. _I’m in the medicine area still,_ he thought, spinning around for a second until he could see the small batch of shelves designated for food products.

He meandered over to it and scanned the shelf until he found two jars of pasta sauce, thank god, grabbing one of them and freezing when he realized he’d have to bring it up to the register and hand it to this man. Standing in place, Asahi pretended to read the jar label, whistling a nondescript tune to himself, trying to look natural, until he figured it had been too long and the cashier probably thought he was a freak and _oh god, what if he IS the type to call the cops after all and—_

“Hey, is everything okay? Need help?” Asahi snapped back into focus, his pace quickening as he realized his fears were coming true… but wait. As he turned to look at the cashier, he realized something felt different. His gaze had softened and he was sitting both straight and slightly forward, his energy attentive to Asahi’s. Was that a hint of sympathy coming from a complete stranger—was that genuine concern embroidered into his features like a fine thread of woven gold? Somehow, Asahi’s pace slowed just a hint and his head felt less hot, less foggy: it was a subtle shift, but certainly there.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just zoned out for a second, that’s all.” The cashier hummed in approval and Asahi approached the counter cautiously, as if he were approaching a wild dog, sliding the jar across its surface like a peace offering. Asahi watched as he grabbed the jar with rough hands, bandaids on the knuckles and a noticeable scab along the edge of his thumbnail, thumb gently playing with the lid as his other hand dexterously typed some numbers into the cash register. His eyebrows were knitted together as he worked with his tongue caught between his teeth, pausing to puff a strand of hair away from in front of his eyes. The labels for the various brands of candy, cigarettes and medicine plastered all over the front of the plexiglass surrounded him like a halo, and for a second Asahi felt numb.

He was awoken by the jarring beep of the receipt printer and the soft tear of paper, as the man stashed the receipt into the bag he had put the pasta sauce in. When he pushed the bag across the counter, Asahi reached out to grab it and for a second, their hands brushed together as they caught eachothers’ gaze once more. Asahi wanted to move but he felt he couldn’t, his eyes sucked into the other’s like quicksand; each time he tried to drag his brain away from the situation he would just get pulled in deeper, making it harder to move. After a brief moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, Asahi broke the silence, struggling to push the words out through his lips as the fire beneath his skin threatened to take over his whole body.

“Thank you.” The words were pushed out, soft as silk, and Asahi mustered the courage to grab his bag and turn to walk out the store. The man just kept staring at him and it somehow felt both unnerving and mildly flattering. As he placed his hand on the door handle and pushed, the jingle of the door bell seemed to trigger something in the cashier, who let the words flow from his lips like water from the pitcher, Asahi felt.

“Have a good night.” Soft as water. Asahi closed the door behind him and peered through the window as he walked by, seeing the cashier turn his attention toward the countertop. He felt he was on auto-pilot, passing the other buildings and reaching the edge of the block in what felt like seconds. The thoughts didn’t rush back into his head until he was halted at the intersection, waiting for the stoplight to change.

… What the _fuck_ was that?

\- - -

“Asahi, Asahi, slow down, slow down,” Sugawara uttered around a hearty mouthful of pasta. The two of them and Daichi were seated around their modest kitchen table, illiuminated by candlelight and the gentle glow from their skinny kitchen window. Asahi was running his mouth and had barely even touched his food. He put his head in his hands and groaned, taking a few deep breaths while he collected his thoughts.

“I just don’t know what the fuck that was. I’ve never had that reaction to _looking_ at a complete stranger, _ever._ ” He toyed at his pasta with his fork while Sugawara and Daichi looked at eachother, unsure of what to say. They both went to go speak at the same time, Sugawara letting Daichi speak first.

“Listen, Asahi… Sometimes we just have reactions to people we don’t understand. Maybe you were tired, or your hunger was clouding your judgment, or maybe you were still a little wired after forgetting where you were.” He finished chewing the food shoved in his cheek and swallowed, rinsing it down with a gulp of water. Suga rubbed his shoulder affectionately and turned to Asahi, eyes boring into his soul.

“Asahi, be completely honest with me.” Asahi gulped, preparing for the worst.

“—What about all this is so troubling?”

Asahi froze, Sugawara’s question pinning him to his seat. He teetered around a response until Suga interrupted his thoughts again.

“Well, let’s start here: What was it about him that made you hyper-analyze like that?”

Asahi hummed around the prongs of his empty fork, pressing them gently into his tongue as he thought back to that moment.

“Well, I suppose it was just how unexpected it felt… or maybe he threw me off because I was expecting to find Yaku? Or maybe—”

“No Asahi, I don’t want to hear you analyzing anything right now. We’re trying to figure out _why_ you were analyzing anything in the _first_ place.” Sugawara’s tone was both soft and decisive, yanking Asahi’s running thoughts into place like a leash on an overemphatic puppy. Asahi paused a little longer this time, really bringing himself back into that store, into those couple minutes. He would open his mouth and pause, closing it again; he continued this two or three times before Sugawara interrupted again.

“Just say exactly what’s on your mind.”

“I think he felt like fire.” The words burst out from Asahi’s lips, Sugawara leaning back in his chair, listening.

“… or something. I don’t know. But when I first saw him sitting there it was like looking at a wildfire from far away, right?” Asahi stuck his arms out to demonstrate. “But then when I caught his eyes, it was like zooming in all the sudden,” He said, bringing his hands in close together and inching forward. “And I knew that if I just stepped a little closer I would be able to see each flame and spark and ember. And I think I just felt overwhelmed, I don’t know.” Sugawara sat back, looking at Asahi with a certain look in his eyes Asahi could only distinguish as trouble.

“Where was this again?” Daichi chimed in, turning to Asahi.

“Over at our friend Yaku’s shop, he went to middle school and high school with us.”

“I think you should go over there again sometime.” Asahi snapped his head over to Sugawara, who had spoken up nonchalantly while checking his phone.

“What?! Why?” His voice raised in pitch and Daichi chuckled, Asahi glaring. Sugawara just smiled and stretched his arms up over his head, with a lazy smugness plastered on his face and a stomach full of carbs.

“Do you not want to?”

Asahi gulped: Sugawara always knew. Those soft brown eyes were digging into his own like daggers, like he knew a secret that Asahi himself hadn’t even learned yet.

But Asahi didn’t want to, right?.

“I’m not going back there.” He looked into Sugawara’s eyes, trying to push all his earnestness forward to his most outer surface; making it visible. Sugawara was quiet, patiently creating space and room for him to sort through his thoughts.

Even though his words were true, Asahi couldn’t help but feel a slight drop in his chest and stomach while he spoke them. Sugawara kept looking into Asahi, searching for something, and Asahi suddenly felt exposed.

“Alright.” Sugawara relaxed back in his chair, shrugging. “It’s your choice, that’s fine.”

And it was fine. It was fine on Monday when Asahi stopped by Yaku’s house on his mail route and it was fine Wednesday when Asahi, Suga and Daichi sat on the rooftop, watching the sun set together. Asahi was beginning to let his prior feelings dissipate into a fine dust, scattering to the wind, and was feeling incredibly content with this. Content with the comfort he found in understanding everything he experienced; in knowing all the neighbors, in knowing the street names and the intersections and in all the sweet little names he overheard Daichi calling Suga when the door was closed. Asahi filed all these little names away for his mail routes and little walks he took by himself, for the radiant sun and the soft breeze and the little chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Asahi loved these things because they were what they were and nothing more.

 _Simple_ —Asahi thought on Friday night as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting his t-shirt over his black cargo shorts— _I like simple. Simple is kind, simple is trustworthy._ He stood in front of the mirror, tall and broad, smiling to himself.

But something’s missing.

He tugged at his hair, pulling it loose as it spiraled down onto his shoulders; gathering it back up and trying again. Playing with the collar of his shirt, grabbing its bottom hem and tucking it, untucking it, turning side to side and glaring at his reflection. He became frustrated and turned on the water, splashing it into his face, drying it off roughly with a towel. The sink was slightly clogged and couldn’t properly drain the water, slowly diminishing pool resting in its basin.

Tepid, motionless like the warm sea down by the bay; the southern tides, having lost their momentum, coasting idly into the shore, tainted with seaweed and litter. Asahi looked back up into the mirror, gazing into his own eyes, caressing his own cheek.

_Am I tepid? Am I motionless?_

His reflection stared back; rhetorical.

“Asahi.”

Asahi snapped back awake and turned towards the doorway, face-to-face with Sugawara and his messily-styled hair, his softly highlighted cheeks. He smelled a strange but comforting mixture of hair product and allspice.

“Daichi and I are leaving now, are you okay meeting us there? I’m sure you know the way.” Asahi nodded, smiling kindly as Daichi stepped into his line of sight, dressed in all black with a dark grey chain donning his neckline. He waved his hand and grinned.

“You two go on ahead, I’ll be fine on my own. You look great.” Sugawara smiled and squeezed Daichi’s hand, which was held lightly by his own.

“Thanks, Asahi. We’ll see you there.” The two of them waved as Asahi heard their footsteps creak across the wooden floorboards, small words exchanged at the doorway, checking to make sure they had everything before leaving, Sugawara closing the door gently behind them with a click. Asahi shook his body before smiling in the mirror one last time, trying to wriggle out of his nerves like a wet swimsuit. He grabbed his bottle of water, downing half of it and quickly refilling it with the kitchen sink tap.

He shoved his wallet and keys into the deep pockets of his shorts as he stepped out the front door, breathing in the air of the city as it enveloped him in warmth and sound. He turned right at the intersection and once again found himself heading towards the sunset, this time donned by soft yellow clouds, radiating a deep orange. Despite barely reaching the buildings around him, the sun cast incredibly long shadows, lengthy fingers running themselves across the earth, caressing its scratchy sidewalks, making the small plants shooting up through the concrete seem larger than life.

Asahi was approaching the road where Yaku’s shop sat, feeling at peace. Asahi did not need to know any more people; he already knew woman nextdoor, and the boy who played basketball on the next street over, and Sugawara and Daichi and Yaku and countless others. He let the sun settle on his skin and seep in through his pores, breathing it in like the life force it was. Asahi was content with the small ripples that flowed through his life, the steady river carrying his life forward with modesty and inner calm. Asahi did not want to follow that light as it set into the west for fear it would betray him and lead him north, where the sharp scent of salt would permeate him. Where what once was tepid and motionless became a surge of movement; where what once was disease became a sharpened weapon, a harbinger of death and destruction. Asahi was comfortable with his feet on the ground and the power of water contained gently within the small plastic bottle fitted into the palm of his hand.

He sighed in contentment as he rounded the corner, the sky opening up above the expanse of the athletic field, teeming with life. He was planning on cutting through the field regardless, so a little detour couldn’t hurt him, right? Asahi really did not care too much for parties and was not looking terribly forward to this one, which he knew was at Kuroo Tetsuro’s house: a small, incredibly cramped apartment that was always full of sound and heat and life. Too overwhelming, Asahi thought, can’t even think straight in there.

But out here he could. Up on top of the hill he was nearing, situated right beside the soccer fields, the view of the sky existed in complete openness. Asahi thought maybe he could exist this way, letting the warm rays of his own light seep through his pores and run down his fingers as liquid gold, as honey illuminated by the orange glow of evening sunlight. He took a deep breath in through his nose, letting the air flow in and fill him with a sense of calm; letting the sound of people playing soccer and the whirr of car engines, the occasional beep of a horn in the distance, all fade into the distance.

He felt like he was in the sky. His chest swelled with emotion and his skin tingled with the quiet hum of locusts and cicadas. He could feel himself dissipating, being erased from the bottom up and released into the sky like fireflies from an open jar; one with the movement in the air around him. 

So when he felt the soft tap of a soccer ball against the side of his shin, he already felt as though he had known it. As though he expected it, like an old friend knocking at the front door. He turned around and bent down to pick the ball up, hearing the hurried footsteps of someone running up the slight hill towards him.

“Thanks, I’m sor—” Asahi caught the eyes of the soccer ball’s owner as he straightened up, skin singeing in their warmth. Standing in front of him was the man from Yaku’s shop, basking in the deep orange glow of the sunset; heat radiating off him like a skinned knee, the hot metal piece of a seat buckle, the sizzle of the concrete on the horizon.

What are the odds. _Pretty high, actually. You’re standing in the field literally across the street from Yaku’s shop, and the man with those eyes works there. It’s not like you’re halfway across the world._ Asahi swallowed the lump of his own nerves and realized that he had been looking at this man for far too long but that _he was looking back and it was like he was searching for something in him, oh boy—_

“I-it’s fine…” Asahi managed to squeeze the words out from his chest, straightening the rest of the way up and handing the ball over. Small hands reached out, not grabbing the ball but receiving it gently into open palms, fiery eyes still dashing over his skin as his lips remained parted.

“Thanks.” The word floated up and out from between his lips like a dandelion seed, small and lightweight, soft as a whisper up past Asahi and into the red-orange of the sky above. His foot pivoted in the grass and he turned to lightly stumble back down the hill, Asahi watching him for a second and then turning his attention down towards his feet; the calm that permeated him now punctured by an arrow, shooting through his skin and into his chest, the energy disrupted and echoing around his body like the fireflies he thought he had let out.

What the fuck was this? Asahi needed some kind of explanation, an anonymous letter shoved in his mail telling him exactly how a stranger could make electricity shoot through his limbs and into his body. He probably doesn’t even remember me, Asahi thought. _And why would I want him to? Why would I expect him to? I really am some kind of selfish idiot, aren't I?_

“Hey.” The voice broke through Asahi’s thoughts like the same arrow in his chest. His cheeks flooded with heat and he could feel his heartbeat thumping in the cavity of his chest like some drum he couldn’t quiet down.

“I remember you.” Flowers bloomed up through the earth and into his lungs, filling them with some air he didn’t know he needed. The man was standing at the foot of the hill, looking up at Asahi, soccer ball tucked under his arm, and he was looking at him, and for a brief second Asahi really felt acknowledged and it was almost tripping him up. He felt stronger and sturdier, and suddenly the words were sitting right on the other side of his lips, sharp and exact and waiting to jump out.

“I remember you too.” Everything grew quiet and empty but full. Asahi half expected the man to say something more but he just turned around and ran back towards the soccer nets, the slightest glimpse of a smile peeking out around his cheek before his face disappeared from view like the last red sliver of sun glowing before disappearing beneath the horizon. Asahi swallowed his own spit like water. He turned and continued his walk across the park, legs shaking just the tiniest bit, hands unsure where to sit on his own body.

What was that? What was going on? The words bounced around in Asahi’s brain, in his stomach and wedged in his ribcage: _I remember you. I remember you._ How the fuck could these words mean anything at all? How could they have such a strong grip on his chest and wrists right now?

The whole situation was odd. His choice of words was odd. His decision to cut the conversation off there was odd. But at the same time, it was somehow exactly what he needed to hear.

He remembers me. _He remembers me._ His legs picked up pace, the soles of his shoes kicking up dust and dirt until he felt the concrete scrape against them as he broke into a sprint, the energy flowing through his veins, up into his head and out into the sky above as if his lid were opened again. The heat of the summer evening clung to his skin like wildfire and he would’ve been scared that someone thought he was trouble, running down the street like this, that the cops would come after him; but in that moment, he didn’t care and he didn’t care to try and explain _why_ he didn’t care.

Maybe it was that he knew the fire he had seen in those eyes had seen him back.

He arrived at Kuroo’s apartment, running up the stoop and opening the door, just to find Sugawara and Daichi standing in the hallway. Sugawara locked eyes with Asahi; he was out of breath, his hair pulling itself loose from the hair tie holding it back and the afterglow of happiness and freedom painted over his features, emanating off his skin. Something had happened. Sugawara smiled and stepped aside, letting him enter the house.

For once, Asahi’s energy outweighed that of the room. Sugawara and Daichi looked at eachother, understanding.

_He’s moving._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys :) excited to keep working on this, I'm pretty proud of this chapter


	3. Reuniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This whole thing wouldn't be nearly as much of a problem_ , Asahi thought as he scratched at the back of his neck, _if he wasn't constantly looking at me like I was some kinda freak._

“Asahi, we’re leaving soon, are you _sure_ you wouldn’t want to come?”

Asahi stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a scent all strange and vaguely familiar; some odd combination of chopped peppers and cheap sunscreen. Sugawara stood with his bare feet on the cool kitchen tile, being pushed back and forth by the movement of Daichi’s hands on his back, rubbing in sun lotion. Asahi couldn’t see them but he knew Daichi’s eyebrows were knitted together in kind concern.

“You could take the train down and meet us at the station tomorrow!” Daichi really wanted to include him, and Asahi couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. He let the guilt leak out through his wrist, which quickly jittered across the cutting board, dicing the vegetables.

Could he go? For the nth time, Asahi pondered on the thought of the ocean. Heading south on the train, stepping out into the salty air and humidity.

The heat. The smell of rotten fish hanging in the air like a dense fog, thick in his lungs. The crab bones washed to the shore, half-buried in the sand like an unfinished grave.

He could be sick.

“N-no, I really can’t. I’m sorry.” He swiped the blade of the knife across the cutting board, tossing the diced peppers into a small bowl. Daichi’s hands slowed across Suga’s back as he finished covering it in sunscreen, giving him a light pat on the shoulders. Everything was quiet for a brief moment as Daichi’s concern from being newly acquainted with Asahi’s fears clashed with Sugawara’s frustration from dealing with them for years. _It’s palpable_ , Asahi thought as he turned to chop up his next ingredient. Suga was about to spill over.

“Asahi, you know you will have to get past this someday.” Suga’s tone is like a firm hand and Asahi flinches. He can hear Suga nonchalantly packing up his belongings as though he had simply asked about the weather. Asahi could feel a small bubble of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him but swallowed it down, kept his hand moving.

“The ocean’s nowhere near my mail route; the ocean’s nowhere near my neighborhood. I don’t need it.” Asahi chops up the onion, letting the knife glide smoothly across the cutting board, dicing it finely. Silence on Suga’s end, until he spoke up, sounding both resolute and tired.

“Your grandfather wouldn’t want this for you.” Asahi finishes chopping up the onion, slamming the knife down on the countertop; soft but still noticeably sharp.

“ _Shut up._ ” Harsher than usual: a sign of frustration. Everything was silent save the distant beep of a car horn and rev of an engine. Asahi kept his back turned towards them, didn’t want to look. He was too tired to look, too tired to face the heavier tiredness laced in Sugawara’s eyes. He leaned on the counter and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the guilt that typically followed an outburst pulse through him.

“I’m sorry.” Soft and quiet, apologetic. Asahi never liked snapping. Sugawara sighed and slung his bag over his shoulder, Daichi still unsure of what to say. This felt like a battle he was best left out of.

“Asahi, I can’t control you. I can’t _convince_ you. Just think about it. We’ll be around if you change your mind, we’re staying close to the station.” Asahi turned around, finally facing them. Sugawara’s features were tired, but also kind and gentle. Daichi was concerned but was also a little antsy to get out the door: both had noses generously painted with sunscreen. Asahi held back a small chuckle. It’s best he kept his mouth shut.

“Okay.” Asahi’s lips tipped gently upward as he ran a hand through his hair. Sugawara smiled back as they grabbed their last couple belongings, making sure that everything was in place. Sugawara scanned the room one last time and sighed, his shoulders heaving softly with his breath and releasing a tension he had been unwillingly harboring.

“Alrighty, we’re on our way out.” Sugawara turned to go hug Asahi, who momentarily paused, softly holding his hands in his own.

“Hey,” He looked Sugawara in the eyes, making sure they were on the same page. “Thank you. I know I’m troublesome. I just don’t think I’m ready yet.” Sugawara sighed in exhaustion but smiled, running his thumbs over the backs of Asahi’s hands.

“It’s just early in the morning. I’m still waking up.” He paused. “I don’t take back what I said; but I _do_ take back how I said it. I apologize.” They stood there for a moment and ultimately decided not to hug, Asahi softly squeezing Sugawara’s hands and him squeezing right back; twice for good measure. Sugawara softly smiled and slipped from Asahi’s hold, turning back to Daichi. “Let’s get going.”

They both headed to the hallway, slipping on their sandals and quietly buzzing in humble conversation. Asahi poured the contents of his bowl into a pan on the stove, cracking an egg into it.

He could hear the front door click open, the familiar crack of its broken frame echoing through their small home.

“Sugawara? Daichi?” They grew quiet, small heads peaking around the corner of the hallway. Asahi waved.

“Safe travels.” They both beamed, gentle and warm as the quiet sunrays of morning. Sugawara waved back as he stepped out the front door, Daichi holding it open as he exited soon behind him.

“You too, Asahi.” The door closed behind them, the fumbled twist of the lock hesitantly following, as though stuck just a moment behind.

The comforting smell of egg and onion filled the room. Asahi folded the omelet, sprinkling spinach over top. Watching the spinach slowly wilt in the heat.

\- - - 

Work was the usual. It was finally starting to cool off as Asahi finished up his route, delivering his last letter of the day around 7 pm and feeling awfully hot. He gazed up towards the sun while he walked down Yaku’s street, shielding his eyes from its glare; wondering why the sun always had to be at its hottest during his shifts. Its presence dragged the bottom of the sky into a light yellow, bringing on the smallest hints of a sunset. Asahi’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud whistle and the splash of water on his ankles.

“Well, look who it is, Mr. Azumane Asahi!” Asahi turned his head and was met with an all-too familiar playful glare, framed by a short mess of mousy brown hair, slightly sunbleached. Yaku Morisuke stood leaned up against the wall of his shop; wearing his water-stained apron across his chest like his armor, brandishing a hose in his hand like a sword. Asahi grinned and stepped towards him, pulling Yaku in for a brief hug. Heat radiated from Yaku’s chest into Asahi’s stomach, ever warm and loving; encased in a small and sharp form, decorated by light muscle. Yaku was the pot that both heated up your soup and burned your fingertips if they came too close. Asahi let his hand splay out across his back.

“Morisuke, I haven’t seen you in so long! Too long, if you ask me…” Asahi breathed in his scent and let it revitalize him: the combination of sweat, cardboard, and old cigarette smoke. _Familiarity_ , Asahi thought as he pulled away, tucking the loose strands of his hair behind his ears. Yaku beamed, dropping his hose to the concrete and dusting his hands off.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Asahi. I’m easy to miss.” Asahi rolled his eyes but his grin stayed the same. He was right. Yaku was the exact kind of personality that left an empty gap in your heart when you hadn’t seen him in a while, filling it right back up the second you saw him again. That energy filled itself out in a mouth chock full of pearly whites, showing themselves off on a face seemingly too small to hold them all in.

“How was your day?” Asahi took a deep breath.

“It was fine,” he sighed, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. Yaku felt his chest lighten, seeing Asahi relax like this: Asahi was the type to usually be plagued by some unpalpable force of introspection.

“I’m glad to hear it. Hey, you’ll never guess what ha—” Yaku cut his own sentence off and brought himself down to a whisper, eyes glued to something down the street. “Hey, does that seem off to you?” Asahi let his eyes follow the direction of Yaku’s gaze, landing on a man standing on the street corner, talking on his phone. He was wearing a nicer suit, no sweat gathered on his forehead as he talked to some invisible guide, Bluetooth earbuds poking out of his small ears, nearly imperceptible. Asahi moved his eyes over towards Yaku, who was still focused on the man.

“Yaku, quit staring...” Asahi spoke just above a whisper, not wanting to be caught staring at a stranger. Yaku turned to look up at Asahi’s face, catching his gaze while he scoffed, looking away.

“ _Where do I know him from...?_ ” Yaku mumbled. He then shook his head, knocking some external thought loose and seemingly sinking back into normalcy. “Nevermind. Wanna come inside? I can get you a coke.” Asahi shook his head, letting a forced laugh escape his throat; clearly forced. He swallowed all the spit in his mouth as he thought about the cashier, and their little encounter yesterday evening.

“Yaku, I really shouldn’t, I—” There was another grip, this time to his forearm, and an intensely warm gaze that spoke _“I’ve missed you, and I could really use to speak with you right now.”_ Asahi couldn’t deny the warmth the large soul in that small body was begging to give him.

“Okay, fine. Just for a little bit though. I have to get back home and start on dinner.” Asahi sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Yaku waved his hand half apologetically and let a small bubble of laughter escape from his lips and he opened the door, letting Asahi walk in first. Asahi collided with a burst of air, face-to-face with a rotating standing fan. It felt nice, and he was overwhelmed with the forceful familiarity of these summer days; all was blending together into his childhood and current self and the gentle path of his future, striding along the sidewalk with his same mailbag and collared shirt.

This was where he and Yaku aligned, both walking the same footsteps along different flooring: the soles of Asahi’s shoes weathered down by the gravel of the same stretches of concrete, while Yaku’s shoes left loud skid marks on the quiet vinyl beneath them. Yaku’s pace quickened even moreso than normal, carrying him behind the counter and through the plastic curtain into the back of the store.

“Hold up Asahi, lemme grab something I’ve been meaning to show you…” Asahi smiled as he was brought back to the reality of where he was: feet on the ground. He turned to the countertop and suddenly the nerves were prickling up his spine again because he had forgotten about the cashier, who had perked up as soon as he heard Yaku come in with a visitor. Asahi’s mouth ran dry as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the shop, separation punctuated with the loud slam of the back door from behind the curtain.

 _This whole thing wouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem_ , Asahi thought as he scratched at the back of his neck, _if he wasn’t constantly looking at me like I was some kinda freak_. His nerves peaked and his gaze darted down to his shoes as he quietly hoped for nothing more than those eyes to quit burning through his skin. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, and it was even worse now that he knew the guy remembered him. What was he supposed to say?

“H-hey, about yesterday—”

“Nishinoya Yuu.” Asahi perked up, looking up from his shoes, feeling a small shift in the atmosphere. The guy was fiddling with a pen in his hands and subconsciously bouncing his leg. Despite these small movements, his gaze remained strong and unmoving. “My name’s Nishinoya Yuu.”

That’s his name, _that’s his name_ ; Asahi thought as he dropped his hand to his side. His brain short-circuited for a second as all those small flames and sparks began to carry a label, a nametag. _How do you respond to a name? What am I supposed to say_ —his palms grew cold and clammy and he could feel his brain breaking down: he let his mouth work on its own.

“Azumane Asahi,” Those eyes still burned into his own. His legs moved him forward on their own accord until he was stood in front of the counter, sticking out a hand. “N-nice to meet you.”

The handshake never came: Nishinoya’s hands just kept fiddling with his pen as his eyes now travelled over Asahi’s face and shoulders, not knowing where to settle. It was as though the energy focused intensely in his gaze had somehow been disrupted and was now bouncing wildly across his figure like a ping-pong ball hit hard and caught in the corner of some room, ricocheting off the walls until it settled in place: Nishinoya’s gaze chose to settle on Asahi’s lips and something was settling in and burning deep in Asahi’s gut and—

“Okay, wait ‘til you see this, you’re gonna go insane—” Yaku entered the room with the sweep of a curtain, footsteps quick and sharp on the dulled flooring, popping the bubble and jolting Asahi from his zoomed-in focus back into the landscape of reality. Asahi spun on his heel away from the counter and back towards the middle of the room, turning to Yaku and trying not to giggle in his nervousness. Yaku stood with his weight rested on his one hip as he held some book open against his chest, trying to balance both his phone and the book while he explained something to Asahi, whose focus was dulling again as Yaku’s words all melted into his stream of consciousness.

 _What was that—God, what the FUCK was that?!_ Asahi’s chest tightened and his hand played with the fabric of his shirt. _Nishinoya Yuu, Nishinoya Yuu_ … his thoughts all congregated towards that name as he let his eyes wander carefully towards the counter again, where Nishinoya was sitting, clicking his pen against the countertop and letting it shoot up into the air.

“—But what I _really_ don’t understand is why we don’t just pronounce it that way? Like, if it’s from Italy, and that’s how you pronounce it in Italian, then why don’t we pronounce it like that? Why do we need our _own_ pronunciation?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh…” Asahi’s thoughts continued to swim as his vision unfocused somewhere on the shelf behind Yaku’s head. Yaku stood on his tippy-toes and waved a hand in front of Asahi’s eyes.

“Dude, are you even listening?” Asahi is snapped back into reality by a sharp chestnut-hued glare and a large pout. _Ahhh, now THIS is familiarity…_ that face had managed to leak its way into years of Asahi’s memory. He played into it, feigning boredom.

“Oh, wow, that’s cool…” He spoke in a jokingly disinterested tone, received a light slap over the head from Yaku. A chuckle was knocked out by the force of it. Yaku smirked.

“Just because you’re nice doesn’t make you any less of a jerk.” Asahi sputtered, trying to dig up a response.

“Yakuuuu……..” Yaku erupted into a giggling fit but was cut quiet by his own piqued interest, perking up like a dog hearing someone outside the front door. The cold voices slid across the sidewalk outside like a clean stroke of cool gray, several men now walking by the shop, all dressed in the similar sharp dress; one was the man from earlier. Yaku puffed a short breath through his lips.

“They’ve been strolling around here all day…” He sounded annoyed, but Asahi knew better: maybe _part_ of his expression was annoyance, but there were always tones of something else hidden beneath his emotional foreground. The setting sun was now leaking through the front window, splaying itself over Yaku’s features like a light glaze; accentuating his dark circles, his puffy eyebags.

Asahi could pick up on nerves from a mile away, and had known Yaku for years: he only got anxious for good reason. Yaku’s fingers were tapping on the side of his pants the just as the same group of developers had been tapping on the doors of shops across several blocks of their neighborhood, and Asahi understood this. He had seen several small shops like Yaku’s get replaced with larger chain stores over the years. He could watch the neighborhood change from the same route every day and had seen the effect it left on his neighbors, on the people he loved and cared about. It felt like shit. Asahi opens his mouth to speak—

“Morisuke!” Both heads turn at the voice coming from the counter. Noya was seated, face slack but jaw clenched; eyes full of some deep burn Asahi couldn’t quite put a finger on. He jabs his thumb up in the air and speaks again: “Everything's going to be okay. Let's keep moving forward.”

His voice came leaked out, words hanging heavy on light consonants. Asahi suddenly felt like he was standing on solid ground; he could feel the pads of his fingers touching the gentle callouses of his palms, he could feel the air sitting in his lungs like a small orb of water. He turned to Yaku, whose eyes were shining somewhere above the ceiling. Both dreamlike and completely based in reality; feet on the floor. Noya and Yaku were both looking at eachother now and Asahi could feel the energy between them, like some unspoken resolution.

Whatever it was, it felt awfully beautiful. Awfully special. The sun hitting the buildings just right. Asahi felt like he was a witnessing something he was both exempt from and somehow a part of, like a visitor in an art museum. The tables had turned and he was now the one staring at Nishinoya, who had somehow created footing with a small sentence. Nishinoya who was now looking back, a soft smile stretching across his face like the sun setting into the earth, a thin sliver across the field.

Asahi took that with him, carrying it through the rest of their conversation, out of the shop and back down the road to his house. Into his kitchen, into his food and into his gut. He lied in bed thinking about that feeling of the earth beneath his feet, the feeling of that soft smile like the setting sun. He tossed and turned and then slept like a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS....... chapter 3. hope you're all well :) SMILE RIGHT NOW!!!!! feels good right?? okay hope you all have a nice rest of your day or a better day tomorrow if today was shitty!!


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